


Lipstick

by InkuisitivSkins



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Family, Family Bonding, Femininity, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, societal pressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkuisitivSkins/pseuds/InkuisitivSkins
Summary: The Military Academy is hard on Olivier-- being the only girl in such a male-dominated field is difficult enough, but with the constant harassment from her peers in regards to her femininity, the cadet had enough. In protest, she forgoes it all, yet an insightful discussion with her mother gives her the courage to be herself, leading her to eventually become the feared and respected Northern Wall of Briggs, despite the forces that once held her back.





	Lipstick

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a surprise and kind of a very different fic from what I tend to write, but I'll explain in the endnotes my reasoning for this haha;;  
> I hope it's as plausible and non-ooc as possible. We don't see young!Olivier so it's very hard to pin what she was like back then, but bear with me.

It only took one slice until there was no turning back. 

Four pairs of eyes stared, widened, in awe and shock at the scene. If they had wanted to get a rise out of her, by god, they’d get one. 

Blonde curls fell to the floor in heaps, cut after cut. The girl’s hair was long and thick; past her shoulders when it was worn down-- rather, it  _ was,  _ not five minutes ago. 

They formed a pile on the concrete ground outside of the Military Officer’s Academy main building, resembling shredded tendrils of gold, where they would later sit until blown away carelessly in the wind. She didn’t wait around to see the boys’ reactions; she had just stood, chopping off her long locks with a pair of scissors, the moment they strode up to make fun of her for the umpteenth time. If they saw her cry after she made such a huge deal about cutting her hair, they would see her regret, and the fact that she didn’t actually _ want _ to do any of this. As a result, she turned and stormed away as quickly as possible, leaving them in the schoolyard, their jaws hitting the floor. 

She had planned to do this today, which is why she had chosen to forgo her mascara and lipstick during her morning routine, in order to further prove her point-- and currently, she was thankful for her decision. The tears that streaked her cheeks as she walked home would have looked rather pitiful if they had made her mascara run. She did not even bother waiting for one of the servants from the manor to pick her up and drive her home; instead, she simply walked, purposefully taking the scenic route. 

She needed time to herself to think.

 

“ _ Olivier Mira Armstrong! _ ” Her mother wailed, startling the toddler she had perched on her hip.

Olivier glanced up at her, looking rather pathetic as she stood in the doorway of the manor, soaked head to toe, water dripping from her new uneven hair. She hadn’t cut it too short-- it was just long enough for it to be sticking to her forehead and the back of her neck, getting stuck in her eyes. 

On her way home, she had one of those moments where she thought to herself that it couldn’t get any worse-- just before thunder clapped ahead and rain began to pour down onto her.

“Where have you  _ been _ ? What’s in  _ heaven’s name _ happened to your beautiful hair?” The Armstrong matriarch chided, hurrying over to her daughter. Her hand immediately found Olivier’s cheek before it was run through her soaked blonde locks.

The young girl sniffled slightly, fighting back tears as she held her stoic expression (or, as stoic an expression she could muster under the current circumstances). The noise caught the attention of the baby her mother was holding, causing her to reach out a small, curious hand to her sister. She didn’t understand why Olivier looked so different, mentally unable to comprehend what exactly the change in her big sister’s appearance was, due to her young age.

“I wanted to walk home,” was the cadet’s only reply as she watched Catherine’s small hand make grabbing motions towards her. She had often complained about still living at the manor, even though she was just old enough to move out and live on her own. Her parents, however, insisted that one of their conditions for allowing her to enlist was for her to stay living in the family mansion, where they could keep an eye on her. Sometimes, she half thought it was an okay trade-off; she was able to help her mother take care of her youngest sister whenever Olivier wasn’t at the Academy. Catherine was rather well-behaved, and undeniably cute, so she typically enjoyed it. 

Her mother’s lips pursed as she pulled a sour expression, “Why didn’t you wait for Mister Leighton? We were worried sick when he returned here without you. You could catch a cold out in that dreadful rain.”

In all honesty, Olivier wasn’t able to put a finger on exactly why. She simply wanted to be alone with her thoughts for a while, to attempt and reign them in. So, she just gave her mother a small shrug as she shivered, her arms wrapped around herself. 

Yet, her mother wasn’t convinced, as she flagged down a servant who had been in the process of taking fresh towels to one of the Armstrong’s many luxurious bathrooms, “Nevermind that, then, we’ll discuss it further with your father over dinner. Now, I demand you tell me what happened to your hair, dear. I  _ know  _ you didn’t do this yourself.”

The servant handed Madame Armstrong a towel in exchange for the little Catherine, allowing for her mother to envelop Olivier in the warm, clean fabric. She complied with the attention, though her voice was quiet and defensive, “I did.”

“And why, for goodness’ sake, would you do that?! You love your hair!”

She was already nudging Olivier off towards the stairs, where they would soon descend to the cadet’s room, after Madame Armstrong asked the servant to put Catherine down for a nap. Olivier did not argue or fight her mother’s doting, yet she remained silent the whole trip up to her room, where her mother immediately directed her to the en-suite bathroom. 

Without even giving her a chance to resist, her mother drew a hot bath for her and got her out of the white uniform that had clung uncomfortably to her skin. Once she was finally in the tub, her mother pulled up a chair beside her, examining the chopped blonde curls with anguish. 

Her voice was a sigh, “Now, explain this to me, my dear…”

While Olivier hadn’t told her mother everything that had gone on at the Academy, she had given her brief overviews of her harassment before, “Just those guys again.”

Her blue eyes had been trained on the bubble-covered water, so she didn’t notice her mother retrieving a brush until she felt the bristles gently pass through her hair. Her mother’s voice was much calmer now, yet the girl could hear the sadness in it, “I thought you said  _ you _ cut it, love--”

“I did. Now they have less to make fun of me for.”

The brushing stopped as the matriarch paused, her own blue eyes turning down to her daughter, “I thought it was peculiar that you didn’t wear your makeup today. I suppose that was your reasoning for that as well?”

Olivier nodded, the gesture so small that her chin gently dipped only momentarily into the warm water before she lifted her head again, “I’m the only girl in the whole Academy. Even though I’m there and I’m doing well, they still pick me apart and use everything about me against me. I’ve decided to get rid of everything they have to make fun of.”

Her mother was silent for a long moment, having already resumed her brushing. Olivier fully expected her to be angry; being that she was the eldest of the Armstrong children, there were certain things expected of her. It had already taken months for her parents to get over the fact that she didn’t want to wed and become a mother at a young age, and they  _ still _ had not fully accepted her decision to enlist in the military. However, when her mother spoke, she was surprised.

“You like your femininity, though, don’t you? I know you didn’t want to do feminine things, but I thought you enjoyed looking the way you did.”

“That’s the thing,” Olivier spoke up, finally glancing up at her. “The only feminine things you’re talking about are becoming a wife or a mother. I was fine with the ballet and piano lessons, just as I enjoyed the horseriding and the fencing you and Father eventually allowed me to do. The fact that I liked  _ looking _ traditionally feminine has nothing to do with becoming a wife or a mother, or even joining the military. I don’t want to only be a decoration, I want to do something with my life. I just liked wearing my hair long and wearing my makeup, and I thought I would be able to become successful in life while looking a certain way, but if that’s going to put my career in jeopardy, I’d rather just be in the Academy and not like the way I look…”

Madame Armstrong heard the break in her daughter’s voice as she set the brush down. She tucked her hands into her lap and heaved another soft sigh, “You shouldn’t feel the need to forgo your femininity because of your job, dear. Just because the military is a male-dominated field doesn’t mean you have to be masculine to succeed in it.”

“Those  _ assholes _ obviously don’t agree,” Olivier murmured as she turned away, sinking into the water. 

Her mother ignored the profanity, “If you enjoyed wearing your hair long, love, then you should wear your hair long when it grows back. If you enjoyed your makeup, wear it too. If they don’t have any effect on your performance, I don’t see why there would be a problem. If you  _ want _ to get rid of these things, that would be different-- but don’t change yourself just because of what society wants.”

Olivier slowly looked back up at her to see her mother’s warm smile, “Being a woman is nothing to be ashamed of. Whether you wear makeup or not, you’ve a strong mind, and with the proper training, you’ll have a strong body, too. Once that day comes, you’ll be a soldier, dear, and your gender will make you no more or less of one. That being said, just continue to be the top of your class, and you’ll do fine.”

The cadet considered her words before exhaling shakily. It was true; she was at the top of her class, despite multiple instances where her professors or peers attempted to sabotage her grades. If she was able to make it  _ this _ far already,  _ especially _ with all of the forces attempting to act against her, just think of how great she would be once she graduated. 

“And if you do decide to go back to how things used to be,” Madame Armstrong said calmly, glancing out the bathroom door at the vanity in Olivier’s room. “Think of how it will be once you’re at the top. With long hair, with the makeup… You’ll feel like your true self, which will only make you more confident and comfortable. You’ll be an unstoppable force.”

Slowly, Olivier’s lips curled into a small smile. She wondered where this suddenly all came from; if her mother felt the same way about the path she chose, and if she would have preferred something else besides marrying and having children early. Her words seemed to rise from a spot deep within her, and while Olivier did not feel comfortable in asking about it, she still felt closer to her mother in a way she never had before. Perhaps she understood more than what she let on to her daughter. 

“Thank you, Mother.”

 

“Um… General? Is this yours?” Miles asked dumbfoundedly, lifting the fluffy pink robe from the pile of clothes Olivier had tossed him. 

Olivier hummed the inflection of a question as she turned to see what exactly he was talking about, “Oh, yes. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just, uh,” the Ishvalan blinked, examining it closely, honestly surprised when he found no secret pockets in it where one could sheath a sword or holster a pistol. “It doesn’t seem  _ like _ you. I always thought you would burn things like this the moment you saw them. I thought you didn’t like it when people talked about your femininity.”

“Only because, when people do,” the general spoke, making her way over to him. She lifted the robe from his grasp so he would stop staring at it, setting it back onto the pile. “They look at it solely from the standpoint of me being a woman in the military. People automatically assume I hate all things girlish, so they make a huge deal out of it when they realize that  _ lips aren’t naturally this pink and shiny _ . It’s embarrassing, honestly. There shouldn’t be an uproar made because it’s wrong to think that there can’t be a crossover-- I’m either in the military, or I like feminine things. Both is a no-go in these neanderthal's minds for some reason. They can’t comprehend it.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, Sir,” Miles stuttered, lifting the clothes pile. “I’m afraid I assumed it, too.”

“But you’re not an idiot,” Olivier replied, returning to the desk in her bunk. “Blame societal norms and shit.”

Feeling a spark of humor, the major spoke back up, heading for the door, “So I suppose flowers and fluffy, soft things are on the table for this year’s Christmas presents?”

“No flowers,” the major general snapped. “And I’m just a fan of practical clothes, Major, don’t step too far over any of these boundaries just because I confided in you. Don’t make me regret it.”

He cracked an amused smile as he left her bunk, on his way to the laundry room, “Yes, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I can't for the life of me find the picture I'll be talking about. I could be totally wrong about this, but this headcanon mostly came from a picture I once saw on google FOREVER and a half ago. So long ago that I literally can't find it now,,  
> It was a picture that looked like a photo of an electronics screen, like a monitor or a phone, but it looked like official art. Believe me when I say this, I've been in the fandom for a VERY long time, and I can recognize when something is fanmade, even if the style emulaiton is good. It was literally Olivier like in a bathroom in a pink robe, and if it IS real, I'd assume it's from one of the PSP games or something since a lot of those have anime-style screens. I have two of them from the PSP games at the ready that involve Olivier, and they look like they could be taken straight from the anime-- yet, obviously, they aren't in Brotherhood or any of the extras/OVAs. One of the screens even has button options on it haha so they're definitely from the game (which I have one of them, I just,,, need a PSP orz)
> 
> So yes that's where that comes from. It's official as far as I know, but if anyone knows more about it (and if it's real or not), please let me know. I also wanted to touch upon it because of Olivier's lips plus the fact that she wears her hair down, and in addition, she keeps it super long. she's so regal ahhh
> 
> Obviously I don't think shes SUPER girly or anything near that. i just like liv in a pink robe and yknow.. maybe cutesy underwear too. i just love cute liv ok
> 
> If you don't agree, feel free to see this as crack lmao
> 
> So sorry this is kind of out of nowhere. I hope you enjoy anyway;;


End file.
